****
The couple froze when they spotted Lin Fan.
Why was this loser here?
Wang Shan stepped forward, eyeing Lin Fan with a scowl. "What's a broke nobody like you doing here?"
Lin Fan raised an eyebrow. "Do I need your permission to show up?"
He didn't care who this guy was. Lin Fan wasn't about to kiss up to anyone.
The woman sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "You're not here for the car show, are you?"
She was undeniably attractive—standard figure, decked out in designer clothes, clutching a Chanel bag. But her sharp, snide attitude made Lin Fan's skin crawl.
Muttering under his breath, he grumbled, "Damn, just my luck. I come to buy a car and run into these two clowns."
Though his voice was low, they heard every word.
Their eyes blazed. "Who're you calling a clown, kid?" Wang Shan snapped.
Lin Fan crossed his arms, unfazed. "Got a problem?"
Wang Shan's face twisted with rage. He swung a wild fist at Lin Fan's face.
But one look at him screamed overindulgence—his stance wobbled, his body weak from excess.
If even Li Hu couldn't take Lin Fan down, this guy had no chance.
Before Wang Shan's fist could land, Lin Fan slapped him clean across the face.
*Slap!*
The sharp sound echoed through the bustling car show.
The venue, packed with people ogling luxury cars and models, fell silent. All eyes turned to the scene.
Someone in the crowd recognized Wang Shan.
"Isn't that Wang Shan from Tianhang Jewelry? What's going on?"
"Who's that young guy? He dared to hit him!"
"Does he have some big backing?"
Tianhang Jewelry was a major player, though not on the level of Longyue or Zhoufu Jewelry. Recent failed investments had slashed its market value by over a billion, and rumors of a buyout were swirling.
Still, it carried weight.
For Wang Shan, the head of Tianhang Jewelry, to be slapped in public was beyond humiliating—it was catastrophic.
Lin Fan, learning their identities, was mildly surprised. He recalled Tianhang Jewelry's interest in Zhou Momo's raw stone at the market.
Wang Shan clutched his stinging face, glaring at Lin Fan. "You know who I am now, kid? Scared yet?"
"You messed with the wrong guy!"
Lin Fan smirked, stepped forward, and delivered another resounding slap, sending Wang Shan sprawling to the ground.
The woman rushed to help him up, shooting Lin Fan a venomous look. "You're done for, kid!"
Lin Fan waved his hand dismissively. "What, you think I'd hit a woman?"
She flinched, silenced by his icy stare.
With a mocking grin, Lin Fan turned toward the car show entrance.
Against people like this, words were useless. Fists spoke louder.
They'd insulted him for no reason—did they expect him to reason with them?
But before he could take a few steps, a middle-aged man with a headset, flanked by security guards, blocked his path.
"Sir, I'm afraid you can't enter," the man said.
Wang Shan, seeing his chance, pointed at Lin Fan, shouting, "Manager Zhang, this punk assaulted someone! Do something!"
"He's clearly here to stir trouble. I got hit on *your* turf—you owe me an explanation!"
Manager Zhang nodded, turning to Lin Fan. "Sir, your behavior is unacceptable…"
Lin Fan cut him off, waving a hand. "He mocked me first and threw the first punch. Am I wrong for defending myself?"
Manager Zhang could guess the gist of it. The car show attracted the rich and powerful, all dripping with arrogance. He knew Wang Shan well—a cocky guy who often threw his weight around.
But even if Wang Shan was at fault, his status demanded favoritism.
Zhang shook his head. "Even if Mr. Wang started it, you shouldn't have—"
Lin Fan interrupted again. "What's it take to get into this car show?"
Manager Zhang frowned, annoyed at being cut off. *I'm a manager, not some nobody. This kid's got no respect.*
Still, he answered, suppressing his irritation. "Simple. Show a bank card—Huahai or Qianye, either works. We assign membership levels based on the card's tier."
"You here to get a membership?" His tone carried a hint of mockery.
He'd noticed Lin Fan earlier, arriving on a shared bike while everyone else rolled up in luxury cars. The guy stuck out like a sore thumb.
Wang Shan sneered. "Manager Zhang, he's just here to make trouble. Don't waste your breath—drag him to the Supervisory Bureau!"
"A broke loser like him can't afford a car. These are luxury vehicles, millions at least!"
Manager Zhang nodded, motioning for the security guards to move in. Wang Shan was a member, and a wronged member demanded action. Letting this slide could hurt their reputation.
But Lin Fan pulled out a bank card, his voice calm. "Check this. What level membership does it get me?"
Wang Shan burst out laughing. "Trash like you wants a membership?"
His laughter died as he caught sight of the card—black and gold, sleek and luxurious, its watermark gleaming under the lights.
His face paled. "A… Black Card!"
He knew Black Cards all too well. He'd once had one, but with Tianhang Jewelry's recent struggles, he no longer qualified. His company might still be worth over a billion, but his personal liquid funds didn't even hit a hundred million.
This *nobody* had a Black Card?
Not just him—everyone around was floored.
A Black Card wasn't something just anyone could get. Even among the wealthy crowd here, billionaires weren't exactly common.
A Black Card was the ultimate status symbol.